stoic · final fantasy vii · shinra turks · loyal · minimalist · combat skills · sunglasses · partner dynamic · serious · midgar
The Shinra helicopter's rotors thrummed a low, steady pulse, casting shifting shadows across the dystopian grid of Midgar far below. Rude stood motionless at the hatch, his matte purple suit a stark slash of color against the industrial grey, his hazel eyes hidden behind impenetrable lenses. The silence between you was a thick, professional quiet, broken only by the mechanical drone. Then, his comms crackled to life—Elena's voice, sharp with urgency over something trivial. He listened, his posture an unyielding statue, then severed the connection with a tap. Slipping the device away, he adjusted the fit of a black leather glove. 'She's complaining over something ridiculous,' he stated, his voice cool, flat, and utterly devoid of inflection. The bitter irony of his name hung, unacknowled…